Chapter 27: Beloved

My mother, Antoinette Giry, and I passed laggardly down the sidewalk. The elder woman, punctual by nature, but usually spotted with a twinkling eye and knowing smile, had nothing to smile about. Her graying hair looked even more colorless in the October mist that shrouded the streets of Paris. A worried wrinkle was creased what looked like permanently in her brow, and her sharp blue eyes looked a dull shade today. The woman looked downward at the concrete sidewalk as they advanced further and further through the foggy, late-morning haze. Her black dress was nearly identical to the one I wore, both long, silky, but made with a much cheaper substitute than real silk, and complete with a fretted veil to hide our faces.

My friends might've once claimed I was a happy, cheerful, and mischievous girl who loved to dance and solve puzzles. A girl with a sunny disposition, an ego hard to kill, and a mind-set that was unbreakable. But now, only a silhouette of the girl described trudged through the streets. My face was pale, not only by the hazy air lining the city. My long, blond hair's true beauty was hidden up in a bun, not unlike my mother's. My face was emotionless, although there were clears signs of despair and sadness leaking through my mask. There were tear stains running down, making a clear path through my pearl-white powder makeup. My posture was somewhat poor, and I leaned slightly as I walked on my way. It was probably clear that I was troubled, and had been for some time, but nothing could be done to fix the past.

The two of us women hurried on our way, perhaps too quickly for women of our current emotion and in obvious mourning. Yet, we pushed through the crowds with slight speed, and sharply wound our way from the main sidewalk to an alley, where the two of us turned into various other alleyways before emerging through a backway towards our apartment home. Mother looked around, silently nodding to me after a moment. We hurried over to the staircase and almost soundlessly flew up one flight of stairs. The Madame, key in hand, quickly unlocked the door, and allowed me to scurry in before she looked round, stepped inside, and closed the door, locking it behind her.

The Madame turned around to face the dark interior of our pitiful home. It was piled with things that could either be tossed out or put away easily, but in our dismay, we hadn't bothered to do. The woman's tired eyes traveled from our dining table currently piled with papers, to the couch where clothing was thrown across as if in attempt at abstract art, to the multiple packs and suitcases that lined the floor around the wall and finally to my dismayed face. Mother had trouble reading through the mask I had put on in attempt to hide my emotions. The older woman's eyes softened as she sighed.

My gaze flitted to my mother, face still emotionless. Slowly, I reached up for my veil and took it off, letting my hair dart a little bit outwards, but I made no attempt to fix it.

"He was important to me too, Meg," her mother said softly. I took little to no notice that my mother spoke, and only placed the veil down on the overcrowded table. "I knew him well. He was a good man."

I paused a moment. "Yes," I eventually sighed. "And he will be very much missed by all of us."

The Madame's's lip twitched downward. "I don't believe he quite knows the impact he made on you and me, on everyone. He didn't realize his value in the world."

The funeral had put both of us in a foul mood, and I don't believe I'd smiled since at least yesterday. I couldn't muster the spirits or a reason to. The service itself was relatively short, and my mother and I had to try and blend in the back of the church. We couldn't stand out at a funeral, where people we knew would be able to recognize us. I was still wanted for aiding a criminal and after what happened on May 11th, my alibi wasn't the best. I'd been laying low for months now. My past self wanted nothing but to be recognized, to have a chance for the world to know my name. Now, I'd do anything to hide from everyone and live in the background the rest of my life.

There were people I knew at the funeral. Noellë had been there, as had some of the other ballet girls that I hadn't seen in forever. I wanted so badly to say hello to them, at least give them a hug, but I couldn't. My mother and I just held our heads down and tried hard to avoid any contact with people. Christine and Raoul weren't there, but I supposed there must've been a reason why they were absent.

It had been nearly five months since George Beaure was killed and the chase had come to a close. It was such a relief to be rid of him, to be able to sit down and not worry that a madman is standing behind you, ready to choke the very life from you. But life had become increasingly... dull. Monotonic and dreary. I'd seen terror, seen death, and I think my mind was forever haunted by it. I could never be truly at peace anymore after going through so much in so little time. It was like being at war. All the ghosts of the past were here to stay for good.

"Do you... want me to put the tea kettle on?" my mother asked gently. I gave a slow, sorrowful nod.

"If you would, please..." I trailed off, and leaned against the wall, sighing again and closing my eyes.

I couldn't believe he was dead. The man had been a legend around the opera, at a point had been one of my best friends. But all it took was one tragic accident to bring one person's life to an end. One person could affect so many people. If only he had realized how important he was before he passed on. I knew that I would miss him so much...

There was suddenly a pair of strong arms wrapping themselves around me. I didn't open my eyes, but transferred my head to rest on his chest. Powerful hands draped around my waist and pulled me closer to him. I didn't resist and snuggled myself, burying my head in his shoulder. He smelled of coffee and ink, a smell I'd come to love and know so well.

"I'm sorry," Erik muttered softly. I sighed and let a tear run down my cheek.

"All it took was one bullet. Just one," I said quietly.

"The human life is so fragile. If only we could get it right," Erik mumbled. "Micheal Winston was a good man, he shouldn't have had such a premature death."

"I agree," I said. "A wonderful singer, and an equally wonderful cellist. If he wasn't on the stage, he'd be right beside it. I knew him when we were teenagers. He called me a turtledove and played with my hair, and I slapped him across the face." I smiled a small smile as I remembered. The look of shock on his face had been priceless to an eleven year old me.

Five months since Beaure was killed, and Erik had almost completely recovered from the experience. There was a time when I was sure he was gone for good. It had nearly killed me seeing him in such a pitiful, helpless, and painful state. I remembered fighting against Raoul, who was holding me back for my own good. Only after my panic had ceased did I realize that Raoul had not been trying to keep me from him, but was trying to keep me from interfering further. Erik had began coughing and couldn't breathe, and I thought it was the end for him. He suddenly went unconscious and I remembered how I had screamed and frantically tried to get to him.

What happened after that is still a bit of a blur, because of the state I was in. I remembered Christine bursting in through the door, a doctor trailing quickly behind her into the room covered in carnage and death. I do remember the surprised look on the poor doctor's face as he took in the scene before him. Before he could sprint away from this mad-house, Christine took control, leading the doctor to the unconscious man.

I remember falling to my knees, weak with fear and fatigue as the doctor began inspecting him, questioning the three of us, and overall exclaiming that this was the wanted Phantom. Raoul promised him a handsome pay for keeping quiet. The doctor was still in a frenzy over finding the long-wanted man, and suggested that by the amount of blood he'd lost, he's need a transfer quickly, or he wouldn't make it another three days. I remember the feeling of despair completely overtaking me. I knew that blood transfusions were risky and there was only a small chance that he'd live. However, we took the risk.

Raoul and I had each had blood extracted from us, on two different occasions from me. Christine, of course, was out of the question, as she was four months pregnant and finally beginning to show a baby bump. It was painful having blood extracted, and I remembered biting on my lip as I squeezed Christine's hand for consolation. I don't know how much he took, but it must've been an awful lot, because I was lightheaded for a while after that. Erik was brought to Dr. Tony's, as I learned later was the de Chagney's personal doctor, home for treatment, seeing as a criminal of his fame couldn't be allowed into a normal hospital, and by no means could be left in the de Chagney manor. I was worried during that week, pacing the floor of the guest room the de Chagneys had lent me. I must've worn a tear in their carpet from all my pacing and worrying. From what I'd heard of blood transfusions and their results, survival wasn't guaranteed. Who knew if my blood was good enough? Could certain bloods not work? What if mine inflicted some kind of disease or was fatal to him?

The relief that flooded me when Dr. Tony knocked on the de Changey's door with a smile and good news that he'd been awake for nearly three hours and was looking promising. Christine caught me from falling to my knees with a slight chuckle as Raoul shook Dr. Tony's hand. The doctor said that somehow, miraculously, his injury had practically healed itself, and the only problem was the new, foreign blood that was circulating in him. I knew that thanks to that miraculous root, Erik had a fighting chance at survival. He couldn't have us visit, as he was still being monitored, and too much excitement might hurt him. He'd wanted us to know his status, however, and as quickly as he had come, the doctor disappeared to return to his patient.

While we waited for Erik's health to be as stable as it could be, there was the matter of Beaure that we had to deal with. A bloodied corpse found in the sitting room couldn't be huge on reputations. I didn't play a huge part in dealing with the body or cleaning all of the blood up, mostly due to the fact that Christine and I played the part of keeping the servants as unaware as possible and trying to assure everyone that everything was perfectly fine. It was to our advantage that Beaure had set the barn fire, as none of the servants had been in the household during the fight or death. It was when Christine and Dr. Tony rushed into the house that their curiosities turned from the fire to whatever was happening inside the manor. It almost made me want to be one of their servants, because I knew of how much this fueled the fire of gossip. I knew they spoke about me, wondering who I was, why I was here, and why the de Chagneys were being so secretive lately. I'd overheard theories, some far-fetched, and a few that seemed likely. They were aware of a policeman's presence, but had no clue where he was or where he went. I was just thankful none of them was suspicious of his death.

From what I'd heard from Christine, Raoul and Dr. Tony had taken the body from the sitting room and dragged it to the wine cellar until they could secretively dispose of it when the servants had gone to bed. Thank goodness no one had ventured down and spotted the bloody body next to the barrels and bottles. The body had been found the next morning in the forest by a man who was on a leisurely walk. I couldn't help but feel pity for the poor man who stumbled upon the corpse. The newspapers buzzed for days with the news, Beaure's face over all the headlines. A few newspapers had mentions of Erik and I, but only in moderation. They spoke of how Beaure had been working on the trail against my mother, who was 'wrongly accused of being in league with the two criminals'. Lucky for me, many of the servants couldn't read, and for those that could, no pictures of Erik or I were shown.

I felt guilty intruding on the de Chagneys like this, bursting in like a madwoman, then leading a madman and an even madder man behind. I'd forced them both to witness more than any sane person should've been able to stomach, and then made them drag a dead body into the forest in the cold of night. I barged in, taking a room and intruding into their meals, free hours, and lives. I voiced my worries to Christine, but she only gave me a small smile and hugged me, assuring that I wasn't intruding. "Your mother took me in as a daughter, and she accepted me like a sister. Surely this doesn't even begin to cover what I owe the two of you," Christine explained. But I could see that Raoul was getting a bit tiresome with my presence and the burden of Erik being in critical condition.

Two more things that were eating at me were my mother and Kristen. I hadn't seen my mother since I first left the hospital during an attack, and although I'd said goodbye to Kristen, I was still worried for her and Didier. Had they found jobs yet, or been reunited with the children? The whole concept that any of them thought us dead killed me. There was nothing I wanted more than to be wrapped up in my mother's arms again, her soothing voice assuring me everything would be alright. But I decided that if I was ever going to see my mother or Kristen and Dider again, Erik and I would do it together. I'd wait for him to heal.

It wasn't until June when I saw Erik again. Dr. Tony allowed us inside, and I quickly hurried to the small cot where Erik was. He looked sleepy, but his eyes lit up when he saw me. He tried to sit up properly, but couldn't manage quite yet. I didn't care, I was just happy to see him. Christine, Raoul, and the doctor left us alone to each other for a few minutes, and he gave me the first kiss we'd shared in a month. It was like a first kiss all over again. I'd almost forgotten what it was like just being near him, how powerful he was, even when he was this weak.

However, in all happiness, there are dark shadows. I overheard Raoul and Christine talking once, and I don't think any of us thought of each other quite the same after that. Raoul complained of me being here, and the discomfort I brought Christine. Christine tried arguing that wasn't the case, and that she had no problem with me being here. But when Raoul prodded that the fact I was in a relationship with the Phantom, Christine was quiet. She admitted that she found it odd, and that she didn't think of me in the same way she used to. Whether she thought of me in a better or worse way was up to my own judgment, but I knew for a fact that neither of them approved of our peculiar affinity.

Another month after that, Erik was walking, talking, and behaving like normal. He still slept a lot, and would sometimes catch a 24-hour sickness, but things were more promising than ever. Erik and I spoke of leaving the de Chagneys and Dr. Tony's care, and I eventually told Christine that the two of us were taking our leave to return to my mother. I was anxious to let her know that we were both alive, maybe not wholly well, but at least alive. Christine seemed a bit sad to see me go, but didn't try to stop us from leaving. I could tell that Christine was doleful to see me go, but would be relived by getting Erik away from herself. Raoul seemed even more eager to see the man go away from his wife. I didn't know if Erik noticed the obvious tension that he had caused, but was only glad that he didn't mention it to me. I knew for myself that Christine's charm no longer effected him, I didn't need him to tell me himself.

They lent us clothing to hide ourselves, because although we were yesterday's news, we didn't even want to have a chance of being recognized. They waved us goodbye, and I haven't seen either of them since.

When we arrived at my old apartment, nostalgia already overtook me. I smiled for the first time in a while, and helped Erik up the staircase before knocking at the door. When my mother answered it, she almost fainted dead away with shock and surprise. Nonetheless, she screamed and hugged me for a good minute. We laughed, cried, and talked for hours, catching up on the lost months. My mother wasn't as shocked as I thought she might be when I hesitantly told her of our relationship. Kristen and Didier had kept an eye on my mother for a bit, assuring her we were alive and well. But after a while, not even they were sure. They had gone off in search of work or money weeks ago, and none of us have seen them since. I wished we would meet them once again, so we could put use to all the money we'd been fighting for this whole time. Not every story has a happy ending, I suppose.

So three months later, here we are. Still hiding, still healing, but we're together. Erik's practically back to normal, my mother had recovered from her own attack long ago, and only once in a while could I tell I'd been shot in the leg. We'd all been through a lot, but just because we were finished running and fighting didn't mean our own story was over. In fact, we were just about to begin a new one, as our overflowing suitcases showed. I sighed against Erik's chest, then pulled my face back so I could look at him.

Maybe he wasn't handsome, or was considered ugly in the eyes of everyone else. Maybe he was a criminal, a murderer, and had a bad side you didn't want to be on. But he was the most wonderful person to me. He looked down, his emerald eyes glimmering. "Michael was a good man, but he's in a much better place now. We should be celebrating him, not sitting here like logs."

"Wise words," he chuckled.

"What do you think the new home will be like?" I asked, leaning out of his arms and against the wall. With so much money, we could do whatever we wanted! Mother and I could pay off all our bills, and still live like royalty. But with everything that had happened in Paris, there was nothing more that any of us wanted than to leave the bustle and hurry of the city life. My mother spotted an attractive little cottage in a small city on the coast while she was traveling home from a short trip. She fell in love with it immediately, and it finally came to the day when we finally left Paris. "I've lived in Paris my whole life, our adventure aside. I can hardly imagine what it'll be like."

"Quieter, I imagine," Erik commented, right as the tea kettle began to whistle. My mother quickly took it off the stove and began pouring our drinks. His home in the catacombs had been abandoned long ago, but he still found the noise of the city at night annoying and quite distracting from sleep. I admit that was much more peaceful when we slept in the gypsy camp, with no voices calling out or light-night carriages rambling by, the horse's clops keeping time. Out there, there was only the sound of frogs and crickets, and the stars were so numerous they couldn't be counted. We spent many a night just looking up at the stars, or talking around a fire, laughing into the wee morning hours.

"Immensely," I agreed. I reached down and took Erik's hand in mine, squeezing it gently. "A new adventure," I said with a small smile. "That's all this is."

Erik just gave a small smirk, and in response, leaned down to my height and pressed his lips onto mine in what I hoped was to be a lengthy kiss. However, it was suddenly broken when Erik's head whipped back, his face contorted in surprise, and my mother with a pan she was packing held tightly in her hand. Her expression wasn't the most amused I'd ever seen, and I blushed at being caught again.

"The next time I catch you trying to eat my daughter's face, I'll shove this pan in a place where the sun doesn't shine," my mother growled, but had a playful twinkle in her eye. I thought I caught a slight blush against his pale cheeks as he stood back to his normal height and rubbed the spot on his back where my mother had struck him with the pan.

"Of course, Madame," he grumbled. My mother sniffed and turned around, packing the pan in it's proper place. Erik turned back to me, still rubbing his back. "Your mother has one hell of a swing."

I giggled and pecked his cheek. "Why do you think us ballerinas were always so disciplined? Don't want permanent damage to ourselves, do we?"

Erik sighed. "You'd better finish your packing, anything you leave behind you won't be able to recover." I agreed and nodded, giving his hand another squeeze and walking back to my own room to finalize the packing.

Erik didn't really know if Meg had much packing left to do, but only needed an excuse to get her away for a period of time. He had something far more important on his mind than Meg remembering her perfumes. His hand reached in his pocket and he fingered the ring. It wasn't the best or fanciest ring, but it was still very attractive. It was a plain golden band, with small designs carved into it's sides. He hoped it was very becoming, and that Meg would find it attractive.

"Now's not the time, Erik," he heard the Madame say, and he turned to face her. She had seen him pondering with his hand in his coat pocket, and knew very well what was in there. Erik had let her know days ago that he was planning to present Meg with the ring in hope she'd be his bride, and although her mother was somewhat hesitant, as any mother would be, she finally agreed and gave him her approval. However, Erik was not the best proposer of marriage. His last proposal went... less than desired, one might say. It was obvious he wasn't going to force Meg into it like he had tried with Christine. No, looking back, he realized that what he shared with Christine had not been love. It had been infatuation, and it was obvious to him now why she had been so terrified of him. He thanked his stars Meg had come about to save him from his eternal mourning.

"I agree," Erik mumbled. "I was only thinking."

"The time will come, just have patience," Madame Giry smiled a bit, zipping up a suitcase. "You've known each other less than a year, and already the two of you know each other so well. It's terrifying to me, you know that? I keep her away from boys and suitors as well as I can her whole life, only for her to choose the infamous Phantom of the Opera." She sighed. "Why do I even try to contain her? She's a free spirit, you know that."

"Don't I ever," Erik smiled. "She's very different, in a good way."

"Well, I should hope so," the Madame said loudly. "She's my daughter, she'd better be different for the better!"

Meg entered the room, blushing a little, with two bags filled up with belongings. "Mother..." she trailed off, but grinned.

"Only stating the obvious," the Madame huffed and poured the remaining water in the kettle down the drain, then packed it away. "What do you two say to a cup of tea before we're off? A final salute to Paris!" Meg and Erik both nodded, and sat down for a final goodbye.

A new adventure. The thought of it was exhilarating and terrifying, and I bit my lip in excitement. Home on the coast! I could already hear the seagulls calling out, smell the salt in the air, feel the sea breeze tossing my hair every which way. So far away from where'd I'd called home my whole life. A brand new start to life.

Erik took his hand in mine and I smiled. Never would I have thought I'd have someone as brilliant, as enigmatic, or as troublesome as the Phantom of the Opera by my side as I began my new lie. But now, I couldn't picture a future without him.

We'd gone through a wild year, being introduced to new friends and enemies, running for our lives, and trying to find ourselves among trying to learn about the other. We escaped death, too closely, sometimes, and we'd gone through more than some go through in a lifetime, but I wouldn't have had it any other way.

I sighed as I peered through the Parisian fog. The sun tried to shine through with little effort, but still shrouded the streets with a mystical glow. Maybe I'd miss Paris more than I thought I might. But no matter. The future was well on it's way, and with Erik and my own hands entwined, we took our first steps in a new adventure.

OHMYGOSH *dies* IT'S DONE! :,D

Alright, so this chapter certainly needs a note at the end. You can skip it if you choose, but you'd miss on some thank yous and notes. :)

Things that inspired me were...

-Erik/Meg authors on Fanfiction and their amazing stories! Although they're few compared to the sickening number of Erik/Christine stories, they're all brilliant. The artwork posted is scanty too, and I'd love to see all your drawings up on there, if you can. :P Fanvids are a big inspiration as well. Plus all of you! Your comments and criticisms have built this plot so much, you don't even know how much I adore you all! :,)

-Pandora was a huge help. It allowed me to listen to the bands Bond, Escala, Celtic Woman (GAH I LOVE THEM!) and Nightwish, which inspire the dramatic/action-y flair to the chapters. Composers such as Danny Elfman, Hans Zimmer, and of course, Andrew Lloyd Webber, also inspired the chapters.

I usually say a personal thanks to everyone, but there are so many of you that I'd be ninety by the time I thanked you all! So here's a HUGE shout out to all of you. Thanks SO much for all you've done to boost my spirits, urge me to write, and offer the finest criticisms. I'm currently rereading the whole story and revising it. Chapter one is changed a lot as of April 2012, so if you viewed it before then, checking that out might be fun.

Please look out in the future for any new Erik/Meg stories of mine, and I'd be very gracious if you subscribed! Thanks a ton for sticking with me this whole time!

Best Wishes,

Aktress.